Page 27 of Odin
“I could. Is there a part deep enough for swimming? Or should I just throw myself into it and wallow like a pig in mud? That might be fun too. Hmm.”
Why does the thought of her, dripping wet and covered in muck, send shivers of pleasure spiking through my bloodstream?
“If you wait any longer, this is going to get weird. I might have to lick it all off myself. Do you think that I could get my own breast into my mouth? I don’t know. They’re sort of on the small side.”
Fucking Christ.
I surge forward, shooting off the edge of the blanket. I sink down to my knees in the moss, but the only part of her that I touch is her feet. They’re so delicate and tiny, perfect just like the rest of her. I take one in my hand, and only then do I realize how hard I’m trembling. She sits up, her breasts smeared in cake, so fucking tantalizing. They rise and fall with breaths she’s trying to control to keep them even, but they betray her excitement anyway. Her dress pools around her waist and her golden hair flows over her shoulders. She extends a hand and buries it in my hair, tugging me closer, but when I don’t rock forward, she cups my face, worry tugging at her smile.
“It’s okay. Iwantyou to touch me.”
“I don’t mean to say that you don’t know your own mind.”
“I know.”
“It’s just that, I’m almost fifty.”
Her smile breaks wide again, the corners of her indigo eyes crinkling with it. “You’re forty-eight. I’m currently covered in your birthday cupcake, and I did plan this surprise and all, so I know how old you are. Your age isn’t going to change how much I want you. It’s not going to ruin my life. It won’t hurt me. I might long to be back here, in this space and in this moment, but that’s just what makes it real and special. It would hurt me not to have this with you. Will it hurt you, wanting this, knowing that I still have to leave?”
It’s been a long time since anyone looked at a man like me and treated me like I have tenderness to give. Not that I’m seen as a lump of meat at the club or anything. We’re all treated like human beings. But the guys treat me like a brother. Some, more like a father figure, or a way older brother to look up to. It’s been my honor to try my best to fill that role in a way that does me proud. For sure, no one comes to me for sappy shit. No love advice, no talk about feelings, no confessions of the heart. I’d have shit all to offer on that front.
I don’t know that anyonehasever looked at me the way Willow is looking at me now. Her gaze is like a knife, cutting through old scars and layers, peeling me down to the tender core, revealing thoughts and feelings to me that I didn’t even know were there.
I can think of one word for the way that I’m holding her foot right now, my thumb gently stroking over the arch. Intimacy.
I’ve never had that in a romantic sense. It figures, given that the romance in my life has been almost zero. Fucking? Yes. Fucking, I do know. There’s nothing wrong with consensualpleasure. I’ve just never experienced the flipside of it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how, and often, the kind of women who I attracted weren’t looking for that kind of experience with a man. Maybe they didn’t know how either.
Willow is different. She’s soft. Sweet. Good.Young. She spent five years of her life already training to make the world a better place.
“You don’t have to worry about me.” The words scorch my throat. “I’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t believe me for a second. “Just because you’re older and a man doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings.”
“I’d be okay with being used. If that’s what you need, I’m happy to give it to you.”
“God, no!” She jerks her foot out of my grasp, but not to punish me. She curls over her bent knees and cups my face with both hands. “I’m not happy to treat anyone that way, especially you. I know it seems fast. It seems like you could only be one thing to me, but you’re not. I’ve learned more about myself in a few days than I’ve allowed myself to process in years. It doesn’t all feel good and some of it is far from complimentary.”
“I’m not making any assumptions. That would be unfair, coming from someone who has never followed an ascribed path.”
“If you want to continue, I want that too. Very much. I think it’s okay to want. The world tells people, especially women, that it’s not. That it’s slutty. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think pleasure has to lead to pain and regret.”
“I’m only worried because we barely know each other. There’s room for error.”
She shakes her head, biting down on her kiss swollen bottom lip. “I know that you have a good heart despite how unkind life has sometimes been to you. You allowed hardships to soften you instead of turning you to stone. That’s not easy.”
“I might be a real bastard.”
Her thick lashes flutter, and at least I get a ghost of a smile. “I don’t think Tarynn would have let me come up here with arealbastard. You haven’t run from a thing I’ve told you. You gave me one of the best nights of my life because you cared that I wasn’t left alone in any way, even with my own mind. You’re here with me in this moment, checking in on me so thoroughly that if I couldn’t see the outline of your heart in that, I would never be able to see anything at all.”
I lift both my palms, easing back so she has to release my face and get a good look. “These aren’t gentle hands. They come with their fair share of blood stains. I’m a little afraid that even though I’ve worked hard to change, that the stains will seep from me to you. That I’ll tarnish you just by getting close.”
“Odin.” She sighs, but not with impatience. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m not afraid. I like your rough hands. If you told me about your past, the only thing I would want to do is hug you, because I know that for people who have to fight to survive, literally, life has kicked them in the teeth.Repeatedly. I don’t think that’s what makes a person soiled. Rough around the edges, maybe. I think you’re strong because you had to be. The things you could tell me would probably break my heart. I’msorry for the loss you’ve known and for the times you’ve been alone.”
It’s my last defense I had to offer up, one last chance to push her away and keep her from wanting me like I want her. I don’t know how she can be so convinced that this won’t end badly, but I want to believe her. I want to grasp onto the way she’s looking at me, like I’m just a man who deserves to be wanted by anyone at all, let alone a woman like her.
Like this isn’t fundamentally wrong on every level.
Like I’m not too old, not too far gone, to be loved in some capacity.
